The impossibly foggy tree,
diligent in its growth.
Each branch steaming outwards
only to fall prey to October.
People have made nests here.
They've left a mess;
"those that will judge you will say you're aloof"-
of course they would,
you'd have replied before I've said a word.
Past all the thaw,
growing to sky,
April will give you
a well deserved second chance.
You're an endless story,
barely past chapter one.
You're born of paragraphs-
-Imagination played no part.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment